When I crash it's never in HD, wonder why that is... Here's a true story though, circa 1985. There was a kid named Ronnie who rode a bmx bike with no saddle atop his seat post. On a sunny summer afternoon he launched himself from the top of the "dirt jump", which involved careening into a ditch and then out the other side where the steep embankment of dirt that had been so meticulously sculpted launched neighborhood kids 3-5 feet into the air. These brave bmx pilots would land on a runway of dirt and weeds in the vacant lot beyond the jump. Smiling ear-to-ear Ronnie took flight, soaring toward the heavens, blissfully unaware that his feet had come off the pedals. Landing with a thud, his anatomy was forever changed. His screams exploded like bombs, shattering the quiet of that tranquil mid-summer day. As if running from mortar fire all the other kids sprinted frantically to the safety of their houses. Abandoned bicycles lay on the ground, lifeless among the over gown weeds. After a few moments Ronnie’s screams were joined by another sound; that of the ambulance who steadily approached the neighborhood. The screams and sirens became an intense, atonal harmony; an unlistenable duet of man and machine. Dogs that had, just moments before, been sleeping on the end of their chains in hushed backyards suddenly joined in a cacophonic eruption of shrill resonance and echoes. Howls and barks challenged screams and sirens for supremacy in this unsettling refrain. Ronnie was taken away. His screams left with him. As if to repair the wounded silence of that day the other kids collected their bikes without saying a word. Quiet returned to the neighborhood and soon the lazy summer breeze once more carried the sounds of kids’ bmx adventures. In time, the kids would again launch themselves off the dirt jump, never without a bike seat however. Ultimately, the shock of that fateful day subsided, the kids grew up and as adults do they began to forget the details of that day; forgetting exactly who was there, what their names were, and whether it was the right or the left one. But nobody ever forgot “One-nut Ronnie.”
1 comment:
When I crash it's never in HD, wonder why that is...
Here's a true story though, circa 1985.
There was a kid named Ronnie who rode a bmx bike with no saddle atop his seat post. On a sunny summer afternoon he launched himself from the top of the "dirt jump", which involved careening into a ditch and then out the other side where the steep embankment of dirt that had been so meticulously sculpted launched neighborhood kids 3-5 feet into the air. These brave bmx pilots would land on a runway of dirt and weeds in the vacant lot beyond the jump.
Smiling ear-to-ear Ronnie took flight, soaring toward the heavens, blissfully unaware that his feet had come off the pedals. Landing with a thud, his anatomy was forever changed. His screams exploded like bombs, shattering the quiet of that tranquil mid-summer day. As if running from mortar fire all the other kids sprinted frantically to the safety of their houses. Abandoned bicycles lay on the ground, lifeless among the over gown weeds.
After a few moments Ronnie’s screams were joined by another sound; that of the ambulance who steadily approached the neighborhood. The screams and sirens became an intense, atonal harmony; an unlistenable duet of man and machine. Dogs that had, just moments before, been sleeping on the end of their chains in hushed backyards suddenly joined in a cacophonic eruption of shrill resonance and echoes. Howls and barks challenged screams and sirens for supremacy in this unsettling refrain. Ronnie was taken away. His screams left with him. As if to repair the wounded silence of that day the other kids collected their bikes without saying a word.
Quiet returned to the neighborhood and soon the lazy summer breeze once more carried the sounds of kids’ bmx adventures. In time, the kids would again launch themselves off the dirt jump, never without a bike seat however. Ultimately, the shock of that fateful day subsided, the kids grew up and as adults do they began to forget the details of that day; forgetting exactly who was there, what their names were, and whether it was the right or the left one. But nobody ever forgot “One-nut Ronnie.”
Post a Comment